As I Write This

As I write this, there is an unsent email sitting on my computer. 5 photos waiting to be submitted to a magazine. Will anyone feel them as deeply as me? Will anyone fall in love with the white space as much as I have?

As I write this, I'm dreaming of all the words that want to be written. I'm calling on simplicity in the stories and wondering if anyone really loves a noisy sentence these days.

As I write this, I'm anticipating your response. Are you still reading? Are you interested? Will you play along so that you can feel into your life more deeply?

As I write this, I'm thinking about unbuttoning my white jeans. The french fries from lunch are sitting heavy, and the extra salt is retaining. Despite this, there is turkey chili calling my name and I know that my hunger is rarely turned off.

As I write this, I catch glimpses outside my window and make a mental note to step outside and greet the sunshine. My air conditioned skin is dry and florescent lights are dulling my senses.

As I write this, I remember the sea shells and hand written notes sitting on my altar. Gifts from the deep blue. From me to them. I'm behind in this energy exchange. I will send these pieces of my heart soon. To do: Pick up bubble wrap on the way home.

As I write this, there are longings within my spirit that do not know how to break out. What is the question?

As I write this, I'm doing a mental scan of the self-portraits tucked away in my iPhone. The one where I'm jumping just before yoga class begins.  Yes, that one.